golden | A HARRY STYLES NOVEL

"He's Thinking Of You"

Chapter 22

Chelsea by Phoebe Bridgers
      "Darbs," He knelt down beside the couch as I groaned, "I know it's early, it's time to go."

Harry's Perspective, Future

      "Yeah, but I specifically told you not to!" I fumed, I always tried to be kind and calm and collected with the managers but I had absolutely no control over myself when he told me.

      "Harry, we had to. There are thousands of people there that want to see you in Italy and Florence was the only arena we could book for two nights." Two Nights. Two Nights Only. Only Two Nights.

      "She's not there anym-" Mitch started. "Please don't Mitch." I had no emotional capacity for feeling anything right now.

      Moments of silence passed and I rested my hands on my hips. Tonight was Manchester, so why did I feel the least at home I've ever felt? I needed to go on soon. This kept happening, her getting in the way of my everything because I let her.

       I kept reminding myself that she shouldn't be thought about like that, that it was my fault she backed away. She is not the enemy, I am my own.

      I heard she's been talking to a publisher, Sarah reached out to her to see how she was doing. Said she didn't say very much, that she was busy writing nonstop and helping her mum. I don't think Sarah told me everything, though. And if Darby is publishing a book, she must have a lot more to say than what she said about me.

Darby's Perspective, Present.

      "Here." He handed me a pair of shorts and a Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) shirt from my closet. "Thank you." I said sleepily, my eyes never fully opening once.

      "My eyes are so puffy from last night." I yawned, looking into my bedroom mirror. "One sec-" Harry said, rushing out of the room and coming back quickly with a cube of ice. "Thank you again." I smiled, not caring how many times she thought himself selfish. He was nothing of the sort.

      My hair looked like some sort of nest atop my head, a horrible night's sleep seemed to do it for me. Harry brushed it out softly as I rubbed the ice under my eyes. "Slippers will do. You won't need a jumper, I have a blanket in the truck."

      "Truck?" I asked, quietly. "Mitch borrowed it, cool right?" He smiled excitedly, making me giggle a bit. "It's an old one, orange and— you'll see it soon enough." "Are they out there waiting for us?" I asked, slipping some shoes on and following him out the door to the stairs.

      "They are, but it's okay. Don't worry about it." He smiled lightly, letting me hold his arm as I was still so tired.

      I climbed in the back seat of the truck to find Mitch and Sarah in the front. It was still completely dark outside, and there was quite a bit of a drive to the coast. Harry was set on going to the real beach, and not just the water. So we made our way to Viareggio, only an hour from Florence.

      I slept on and off the whole ride against the cold window, sneaking peeks at Harry as he stayed wide awake the whole time. Most often he was looking at me, I saw him once scratching something quickly on the leather of a dark colored journal with no light. He sat with himself turned towards me on the other side of the seat. I wondered what it was he wrote as I fell to sleep once again, waking up abruptly to someone telling us that we were here.

      Mitch parked the truck backwards, the bed of the truck would face the beach right where the sunrise would be. We sluggishly threw all of our blankets and pillows in the back, moving to sit there.